


Anything But Silent

by klaviergavout



Category: Horton Hears a Who! - Dr. Seuss
Genre: Gen, hurt/comfort i guess?, i hope his father really did make sure he didnt become mayor, i watched the movie for the first time today and jojo really deserves to be happy and confident, no shipping here of course this is some Family Bonding Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 10:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/pseuds/klaviergavout
Summary: JoJo finally musters up the courage to tell his father how he really feels.





	Anything But Silent

Dinnertime in the McDodd household was nothing short of chaos. There were 97 mouths to feed, 97 children to mind, 96 very loud and noisy children in the dining room (along with one silent teen), and Ned McDodd felt himself slowly growing more and more deaf each minute he spent conversing about the latest school test or excursion. However much the mayor loved his children and truly wished to give them the sort of childhood every Who deserved, he had to admit that repeating the same routine three times a day, seven days a week was exhausting. It was with a great sense of relief and closure, then, that the 97th child he greeted that night was JoJo; as Ned's only son amongst a swarm of daughters, he was a breath of fresh air.

"JoJo!" The mayor's enthusiasm never needed to be forced when it was towards his children, especially not with his eldest. "Hey, pal! How're things? Those Thinks of yours been getting to ya much or--"

"Dad, look, I _really_ need to talk to you for more than just 12 seconds," he interrupted, and although JoJo's time to talk with his father was quickly running out, time itself seemed to stop completely when the mayor saw the anxious look in his son's tearful eyes.

"JoJo, what--?"

"Come on." JoJo reached out and grabbed his father's hand tight, jumping off of his far-too-big chair before it moved automatically one place to the right and carried on the cycle. He may have been the smallest Who, but definitely not the weakest-- though JoJo was less than half his size, Ned was practically dragged out the door all the way to the observatory.

* * *

He couldn't help but stare blankly at the colossal instrument as soon as he entered the room. He'd only witnessed the Symphonophone running once before, back when the whole town was attempting to make themselves heard, and it had been the most incredible thing he'd ever seen in all his Whoville days-- but since then there'd been several additions. Rusted girders now hung from the ceiling, played like xylophone keys with a baseball bat mallet. A secondhand radiator had become a makeshift harmonica, big puffs of air supplied using an giant, attached pump that JoJo extremely enjoyed bouncing on. What _really_ impressed the mayor, though, was that the dull metallic lining of the observatory was no more; JoJo had painted the room wall-to-wall in bright and magnificent colours, from the boldest reds to the softest greens, and there wasn't a blank space anywhere to be seen.

"Do you like it?"

The mayor was startled back to reality by JoJo's question.

"Like it? I love it," Ned replied, his mind drifting far elsewhere as he gazed at the instruments and listened to their incredible melody. There was nothing else like it anywhere in the world- and _definitely_ not on any other specks, he thought to himself. There was no doubt about it-- this was his son's work. "It's beautiful, JoJo."

"I spent a very long time on this, Dad," his son began quietly, climbing down from the machine and coming to a halt in front of his father. "I did it all on my own. I learnt how to tune each piece, how to make them sound exactly as I wanted them to. I learnt how to play them the right way. And-- and this might sound selfish, but I really don't think anyone else in Whoville could have made this. Ever."

Ned smiled knowingly. "Now, JoJo, there's no need to brag--"

"I'm not bragging, it's the _truth,_ " he insisted, making no haste in cutting off his father, as if his words had been a very long time coming. "I'm different to everyone else, Dad. I hear music in everything, everyone, every place I go. I can't help it, it's like-- it's like it comes out of _nowhere_ , like I've imagined it without even trying. It's weird, it's strange, it's _different!"_

And with that shout, the observatory was plunged into what could only be called incredibly loud silence. Even though the machine kept on performing, it seemed to both JoJo and his father that they could not hear a thing.

"But I love it, too. I love making new songs and instruments. I love making noise that people don't just hear, they _feel._ I love _this,_ " said JoJo, sticking his arm out behind him, back towards the Symphonophone.

"I know you do," replied Ned, unable to hide the slight tremor in his voice. He wasn't entirely sure where his son was steering the conversation, and it made him all the more nervous. "I know you do, son, you're-- you're gifted, talented, _amazingly_ so! But why are you telling me this now?"

Jojo hung his head with a sigh, eyes downcast. " _This_ is who I am, Dad. I don't _want_ to sign resolutions and approve ordinances and submit budgets. I don't--" and here he paused, swallowing hard-- "I don't want to be mayor of Whoville. I can't."

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Ned McDodd was completely lost for words. Although his son had never seemed enthusiastic about taking on the familial role, he hadn't prepared for an outright refusal, possibly because Jojo had never once said anything in response to it at all.

"So... you've never wanted to be the mayor?"

"Never."

"Not even after all our cool talks?"

JoJo said nothing in response, his frown only deepening, and Ned felt more helpless than he ever had before. It was frustrating how he couldn't even manage to help his own son.

"Look, Jojo, even if I wanted to, I can't change anything-- you know it's tradition! 'Mayor's oldest is next in the mayoral line--'"

"Then give it to the next oldest, or the next _next_ oldest, or even the youngest! I don't care who you choose, just don't choose me. I can't do it, Dad, okay?" His lip trembled, shoulders shook and suddenly JoJo was crying, large and silent tears rolling uncontrollably down his pale cheeks. "I just can't."

Ned's heart and lungs seemed to fail all at once and for a moment he forgot how to breathe, forgot everything but JoJo's face. He was knelt down beside his son like a shot, arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him close as the heavy tears fell.

"Hey, hey, JoJo, it'll be okay. I promise. It'll all be okay. I'm so sorry for making you feel trapped in this, you don't-- you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Okay? We can-- we can go to the Council, and tell them about how you feel, and I'm sure that as long as one of your 96 sisters seems up for the job, they'll agree to bend tradition just a little bit. Okay? Does that sound good?"

Jojo sniffled, releasing the vice grip on his father only slightly, just so that he could look up at him. "They won't _ever_ agree to that. They're the _Council._ "

"You're right, they are." Ned couldn't exactly argue with JoJo's point- he had hated the Council once, too, for precisely the reason that they had never seemed to agreed with him on anything, always wanting to keep Whoville as it has always been. "But if I remember correctly, we're the people that proved a giant elephant lived in the sky. I think the Council's learnt a good lesson on how they should trust me a little more."

That earned him a weak laugh from his son, and that particular noise seemed to revive all the life in him, seemed more beautiful to the mayor than any another music in the universe. He beamed wide, pulling Jojo back into another tight hug, which the boy quickly reciprocated.

"Thank you for being brave enough to tell me all this. I love you, son."

"I love you too, Dad."


End file.
